My aunt was pretty,
More than she is now.
She had vivid eyes
And a witty look.

One day she took me home,
Walking down the road.
I was five, and she, thirty-five,
And she gave me the safer side
While she held my hand.

Judging by the years gone by,
That aunt is not the same.
But she still has that look—
Those black button eyes.

Funny to the bone,
Until I crack and smile.
She still makes me feel alive,
And she sits like she’s five.

...Straight and lit,
Ready for the next move.
That’s why I wonder why—
If time could be just a lie.